FortyTwo
by aisarete
Summary: Arthur is thinking about the meaning of life. Ford stops him. Arthur and Zaphod talk. kinda depressing. AU, slash, slight incest, general weirdness, and fluff


_Cold  
Laughing like a moron in a can  
A chill runs down my spine  
Am I the joke or the comedian  
I'm running out of time  
Lips that tasted tears  
Left a trail of peace  
Still_

_Nothing has changed  
Nothing's new  
And there's nothing you can do  
When despair takes control  
When you're feeling two feet tall_

_Fear  
Realizing it's become a curse  
It's driving me insane  
As paranoid as Stalin at his worst  
With no one left to blame  
Trembling like a leaf  
Sinking like a stone  
Finding no relief_

_Nothing has changed..._

_So will you help me out  
Catch me if I fall  
Will you erase some doubt  
I've been feeling two feet tall_

_A kiss  
Lips that tasted tears  
Left a sense of waste  
Apathy appears_

_Nothing has changed  
Nothing's new  
But the fear of losing you  
There's no cure  
No loophole  
When you're feeling two feet tall_  
-Two Feet Tall (Babel Fish)

(a)

Why are we here? What is the meaning of life? The answer to the question of Life, the Universe, and Everything?

Forty-two.

Can you believe it? Are our lives that meaningless? I don't know.

What is the question of Life, the Universe, and Everything, anyway?

Does it actually matter? Does anything matter anymore?

…No. No, it doesn't. Nothing matters. Life is just a series of coincidences, improbability, and unfortunate events. Nothing matters.

But now I sound like Marvin, huh?

(b)

"Arthur."

No response.

"Arthur!"

No response.

"Arrrthuuur…" Ford walked over to his friend, waving a hand in front of his face.

"What do you want, Ford?" Arthur finally said tiredly, He didn't stop staring out of the window -there was nothing to look at, really, Ford wondered why it took up so much of Arthur's time these days- not even to spare a glance at Ford.

"I thought you might like to know that we are turning on the improbability drive to get to a place to rest, and the chances of finding a very good tea on this unknown planet are about 209,298,328,735-1 against, so most likely you'll get some good tea before the day is over." Ford said. Ford knew his friend liked tea, but could never find any. He was thinking that maybe that was the reason for Arthur's odd behavior, and being such a froody guy, thought he might tell him about the possibility of tea in order to make Arthur happier.

"Well, that's alright, then." Arthur promptly ignored Ford's existence again in favor of the window as the improbability drive kicked in and noises were heard from the other, non-improbability-proof parts of the Heart of Gold. Ford, utterly thrown off by Arthur's response, went to sit next to him.

"You're not happy." Ford stated simply. It wasn't a question, it was almost an accusation.

"That's right." Arthur still hadn't looked away from the window.

"Is it because you can never get good tea?"

No response. Ford took this to mean 'no'. He pressed on.

"Is it because you don't have a planet anymore?"

A sad look crossed Arthur's otherwise expressionless face, but gave no other indication that Arthur had even heard him. So it was part of the problem, then. Now, for the other part…

"…Is it because the meaning of life is forty-two?"

Finally, Arthur looked at Ford out of the corner of his eye, making no other movements. It was Ford's turn to have a sad expression cross his face.

"Oh, well, that's alright, then." Ford said, echoing Arthur's earlier statement. For a moment they sat in silent understanding, until Ford could no longer stand the anguish that had settled over them.

"Come here." Ford said quietly, opening his arms.

Arthur turned and crawled over to Ford on the window seat. Ford wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist and Arthur curled into him, clutching his shirt and burying his face in Ford's chest. Before long, Ford noticed his shirt was rather wet. He clutched Arthur tighter to himself, scooting back some so that his back could rest against the wall.

"It does seem rather… hopeless, doesn't it? Is that it? That's alright, then." he said, as though he solved some enormous problem.

"How is it alright? The meaning of life is 42, and I have no planet!" Arthur mumbled through his tears, rather hysterically.

"For one, you planet will most likely pop back into existence because of the improbability drive," Ford decided not to mention that Arthur could never go back to Earth because the probability that it will disappear after awhile was high. "And also, that stupid super computer was wrong. Maybe the Answer to the Question is forty-two, but life has more meaning than that."

Ford looked down to see that Arthur had fallen asleep. He smiled.

"Your life has more meaning than that."

(c)

Across the room, Zaphod saw the whole thing. Turning away, he frowned.

(d)

Arthur woke up very warm and comfortable. At first he thought that he had died, as he had not been comfortable since… that day. Also, the last thing he remembered was being in the bridge, and the bridge was always slightly cool. Then he realized he was lying on someone.

He tried to pull away, but arms that had previously gone unnoticed tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. Arthur blushed, but stopped moving.

"Where is everyone?" he questioned, looking around the room.

"Don't know, don't care." Ford replied, still not opening his eyes. Arthur decided he didn't care, either. He quite liked his current position.

"What do you care about?" Arthur asked on a whim.

"I care that you're on top of me."

Arthur blushed again and tried to get up, but Ford would have none of it.

"Let me rephrase," he said, opening his eyes lazily. A small smirk graced his lips. "I care that we are alone in room, with you on top of me and a good idea that we will be alone for quite awhile."

Arthur blushed, then blushed about blushing so much.

Ford brought his hands up to Arthur's shoulders, pulling him closer until their lips were almost touching.

"So I would appreciate it," he breathed. "if you stayed right where you are."

Then Ford kissed him, and Arthur decided to humor him. He didn't mind that much, as it were...

(e)

The next day, Arthur sat alone sipping tea at a café. The café was located in a hotel very similar to the Ritz, and the hotel was located by the spaceport they had decided to refuel at. The disguised spaceship sat safely at the docking bay, no one had attempted to attack or arrest them, and Arthur had Ford and _tea_. He was happy for the first time in along time.

"Arthur."

Zaphod stood behind the table, looking as he did when Arthur had first met him. One head, two arms, boyish good looks; the only difference was that this time Zaphod seemed nervous. He kept looking around for someone or something.

"Zaphod," Arthur said warily. "please, sit down."

Zaphod sat across from Arthur, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Arthur…" he began. Then he stopped all movement and simply looked at him. He stared so long that Arthur started to worry. Just as Arthur was about to wave a hand in front of Zaphod's face, he spoke.

"Don't fall for him."

"What!"

"Don't fall for him. Look, Ford's a really good guy. But he's a bit of a playboy. It's not that he means to be," Zaphod added quickly, seeing Arthur's expression. "He just… doesn't realize. He's, like, innocent, or something. He pairs up, he leaves, and there's a long trail of broken hearts behind him. That is to say, many people who are very mad at him. And he really doesn't know why. He hates it when people are mad at him, he starts pouting like a little kid. It really hurts him." He sighed, running his hand through his blond hair.

"You're… you're the best friend he's ever had. If he breaks your heart and you hate him… if you stop being his friend, I don't know what might happen. He doesn't make friends easily. I don't know what he'd do. I don't know what I'd do." he finished quietly, looking away. Abruptly he stood, eyes unfocused and staring past Arthur.

"I won't leave him."

Zaphod looked down at Arthur sharply, breaking out of his trance. Arthur sat looking into his tea meditatively, his faraway look echoing Zaphod's from only a moment before.

"I wouldn't leave him. Even if… this doesn't work," Arthur looked up at Zaphod and smiled. "You guys won't get rid of me that easily. I just…" Arthur stopped, sighed, looked down again. "I just like being near him. I'll still be his friend. I just… want… to be near him."

Zaphod nodded shortly, beginning to walk away. But Arthur's next statement stopped him dead in his tracks.

"You love him, too, don't you?"

Zaphod felt as though his blood had run cold. He didn't move, didn't breath.

"Will you be alright?"

Zaphod turned stiffly to look back at Arthur, his lips pulling themselves unwillingly into a tight, strained smile. He repeated what he had told himself for a long time now, what had become his mantra over the years.

"Oh, I'll get over it."

Get over it.

(f)

Arthur saw the tears before Zaphod rushed off, and frowned into his tea. Suddenly, it didn't taste quite as good anymore.

(g)

Back on the ship, Ford looked concernedly at Zaphod as he swayed walking to his chair. He was quite pale, and looked a bit distracted. He had not yet shifted back into his ordinary, two-headed, three-armed self. 'Perhaps that's the problem,' thought Ford.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

For a moment Zaphod didn't say anything. Then, looking out of the window he said:

"It's fine. Just a little sleepy. I'll get over it."

Ford shrugged. If there was something wrong, Zaphod would have said something. He liked to complain, and besides, they told each other nearly everything. They were best buds since forever, right?

Ford looked at Zaphod's pale, detached face, and suddenly he wasn't so sure.

(h)

What is our meaning? What is our purpose?

Apparently, we don't really have one.

If we don't have a purpose, is our purpose to try to have purpose? But if we don't have purpose, will we never have purpose? And if we never will have purpose, why try?

Perhaps our purpose… is to find out if we can have purpose. But if that's our purpose, didn't we have purpose all along?


End file.
